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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29436843">Wings</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/PsychedelicShips/pseuds/PsychedelicShips'>PsychedelicShips</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Wayward Sides [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Sanders Sides (Web Series), Wayward Children Series - Seanan McGuire</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Gen, Morality | Patton Sanders Needs a Hug, Morality | Patton Sanders-centric, Wayward Children AU, Winged Morality | Patton Sanders, patton just wants to go home, yearning for home</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 16:54:36</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,430</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29436843</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/PsychedelicShips/pseuds/PsychedelicShips</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Patton Harte, at the age of ten years old, discovers a door that should not exist.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Deceit | Janus Sanders &amp; Morality | Patton Sanders, Morality | Patton Sanders &amp; Original Female Character(s), Morality | Patton Sanders &amp; Thomas Sanders, Nico Flores/Thomas Sanders</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Wayward Sides [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2162274</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>22</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Wings</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is a fic for my TSS ask blog, @ts-waywardchildren-au! You don't need to have read the Wayward Children series by Seanan McGuire, but I can't recommend those books enough!!!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Anyone who knew Mr. and Mrs. Harte would quickly realize that, if there was any couple in the world who should not raise children, it was them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mr. Harte was, in the nicest way possible, both a workaholic and an alcoholic, despite his preaching that the Bible should be followed to the letter, which meant every time he opened a bottle he sinned. But, of course, the bible applied only to other men. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mrs. Harte was what most would call a busy-body who cared much more about her appearance to her neighbors than she did children. She was the kind of woman who everyone only pretended to like but then gossiped about her behind her back. Despite her insistence that she was the most important woman in the world, she made none of her own choices, only followed the latest beauty trends, and did as her husband said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This is why, when the Hartes decided to have children, everyone was slightly concerned, to say the least. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>The Hartes saw children as vessels for the parent’s ambitions, as dolls to dress up or as little creatures to be trained to impress friends and family. Ten years later, their only child Patton was none of these things. He was not a prim and proper girl like Mrs. Harte had wanted, nor was he the kind of boy who played every sport known to man. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Patton was the kind of child who would prefer to play in the dirt rather than keep the tiny suits his mother had picked out for Sunday church perfectly spotless, the kind of child who would rather chase dragonflies across the soccer field than kick the ball. The kind of child, who, among other things, wanted nothing but to play with his friends and to ride on his father’s shoulders, and to bake cookies with his mother. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>But Patton was also the kind of child who never got to do these things. This is perhaps the reason why, when he saw a door in the trunk of a tree, did not immediately run back to the park where the church kids played. He had organized a game of hide and seek with the other children, and while the other children could be quite dull, none could pass up a game of hide and seek, not even the older kids. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>He wiggled out from his hiding place from under the bushes and tiptoed towards the tree trunk-door that should not be there. He turned his head to the side, looking at the door from all angles. Up and down, side to side, inspecting every inch before raising a hand to knock on the gray wood. One, two, three taps, and the door creaked open. Where one would expect to see the inside of a tree, there was instead a hallway. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Figuring that inside a tree would be an even better hiding spot than under a bush, Patton stepped inside and closed the door behind him. Unseen light sources allowed Patton to see as he walked away from the door. Had he looked back, he might have noticed that where the door should have been was a blank wall with not even a crack to suggest an opening. But Patton did not look back- he just kept walking, his footsteps echoing on the floor of wood paneling until he came to a staircase going upwards. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>There, on the first step, someone had planted a sign. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Be sure,” Patton read aloud. “Be sure… of what? I’m sure this is a very good hiding place!”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>He had a habit of talking to himself, something his parents very much did not approve of, and it was through his conversation with himself that Patton deduced that he must be quite sure that he wouldn’t be found. Had he known how correct he was, perhaps he might not have gone up the stairs. But Patton was ten years old and had a sense of adventure, so he began to climb. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>The stairs seemed to go on forever, spiraling upwards without end. But as soon as he thought about giving up and going back down, Patton saw the end of the stairs. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Hello?” Patton called out from the top stair. It only now occurred to him that this could be someone’s house he just walked into!</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>There was no reply, and Patton stepped off the stairs onto the landing. It didn’t seem like anyone’s house, because Patton couldn’t think of any houses that had no roof or walls! The floor of the not-house seemed to be… tree bark? Patton looked up and saw the sky, bright blue and cloudless. He didn’t know it at the time, but the sweetness in the air was the lack of pollution and car exhaust, and his ears had stopped ringing because there wasn’t the constant noise of cars. It was so quiet… so pretty! </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Young man, what are you doing up here?”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Patton let out a small squeak of surprise and turned to face the adult who had walked up behind him. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Oh- um- I- I’m sorry, ma’am- I found a door and I was playing hide and seek, and I walked up the stairs, and now I’m talking to you, and- I- um, I’m sorry!”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Oh!” The adult’s face softened from the glare she had before Patton stuttered out an apology. “It’s quite alright. What’s your name?”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“I’m Patton! Um… is this your house?”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“You could say that. So, Patton, are you sure?”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Patton didn’t understand what he was supposed to be sure about, so he did what all children would do: say yes and hope there weren’t consequences. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>At his affirmation that he was sure (even though he was not), the adult clapped her hands and smiled. As she moved towards Patton, he saw what made this adult so unlike the rest of the adults that he knew. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Why do you have wings?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve earned them. And someday, Patton, you will too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That answer only slightly satisfied Patton, but it was good enough for now- even a ten-year-old realized that he wouldn’t be getting any further clarification anytime soon. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How do I get them?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, Patton,” the adult turned her back and beckoned Patton to follow her. “You’re sure?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, I am!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That was the first time Patton had felt sure, though he didn't know what it was for- he only knew that he was sure he wanted answers, sure that he wanted wings! The other children would want to be friends with him then, right? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Very good. Now stand here, beside me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Patton did as he was told, and for the first time got a good look at the new, strange adult. She was tall, taller than his mother, with long silky black hair that Patton thought looked quite like one of the ties his father wore to work- straight and shiny. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Patton had been told, like all children, about stranger danger, but this adult… Patton didn't know why, but he knew that he would be safe with her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Take my hand, Patton, and don’t let go, alright?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Patton nodded and gripped tightly, something his mother would have scolded him for. But neither his mother nor father was here to tell him off, and Patton knew that as long as he didn't cause too much trouble, nothing bad would happen. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Before Patton could ask what was going to happen, the ground was far beneath him and the adult. He let out a shriek but remembered to hold on to her hand and not let go. He kicked his feet, searching for solid ground.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>The wind rushed past his ears, tangling his hair, making his eyes water. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Every time the adult flapped her gigantic wings the noise of hundreds of feathers made his ears ring with the thunderous movements. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>But… his curiosity overtook his fear. Would he get wings like that?</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Wings like the birds he saw in the park? Or maybe like the dragonflies in his garden? Maybe like the colorful butterflies that he always attempted to coax onto his finger? Or perhaps the black and red ladybugs he liked to let crawl all over his fingers?</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>As suddenly as the ground had left from beneath him, Patton stood upright once again, this time on the greenest grass he had ever seen.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“This is my home, Patton. You may stay here for as long as you wish.” The adult gestured to a ladder hanging from a tree branch, connections to something obscured by the dark green leaves that were as big as Patton himself. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Oh! Thanks! Um, what should I call you?”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“You may call me whatever you wish, but my name is Noelani.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Okay! Thank you, Miss N!”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Over the years, Miss N became Miss Noelani, which simply became Noelani, who became Patton’s friend. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And over the years, Patton sprouted his wings- they had come through small and itchy at first, and he was unused to the new weight on his back. His feathers had grown in, small and fluffy at first but becoming larger and sleeker and his wings grew. He had been in this world, the one he began to call home, for almost two years when he could finally fly on his own. Noelani had taught him, by coaxing him to jump off tree branches and trust he would catch himself. He had been afraid, at first, even terrified. But Now?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now he flew everywhere, stretching his arms in the wind, laughing as he let the air blow through his feathers, grinning as he plummeted towards the ground and caught himself at the last second. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There were contests held every full moon, and Patton had competed in them for as long as he had been able to fly. He had started wobbly, unsure, but once he grew into his wings?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was unbeatable. He was the best flier there was, darting in between trees and taking sharper turns than any others dared to. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The cheers of the audience fueled him to go faster, faster, faster! He stretched a handout, reaching for the finish line. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on, Chick!” Noelani’s shouts of encouragement could be heard over everyone else’s cheering. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A burst of speed and Patton flew ahead of the other competitors by a full wing length, stopping only when he landed on the branch behind the finish line. The wingbeats of other races still hadn’t stopped, though one by one they joined Patton on the branch. When the last competitor landed, everyone began to give their congratulations. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good race! That was close!” Patton smiled at the second-place finisher, who in turn shook his hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe I’ll beat you next time, Pat!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can certainly try!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Chick! You were amazing!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Patton turned to see Noelani coming through the small crowd, a grin on her face. Her hair was shorter than when Patton had first met her, and the feathers on her jet black wings had dulled, but her smile was still the same. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know, when I was your age-” Noelani was cut off by Patton’s laugh. She glared and continued. “When I was your age, I could never have done that!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She took Patton into a hug and handed him a towel when she pulled away. “You’re so sweaty! Gross!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not that bad!” Patton wiped his forehead and grimaced, “Okay, maybe it is that bad.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on, Chick! Clean up and I’ll get you some food.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Patton nodded and turned back to the other racers, giving them a final grin before leaving.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey! Patton! Wait!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He turned around to see the second-place finisher running towards him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Here, I wanted to give you this.” He handed Patton a small pastry. “I made it myself. Don’t eat it yet, save it for when you start to get sore.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh! Thanks! I’m sure I’ll enjoy it!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Patton slipped the pastry into his pocket and waved as he began to fly after Noelani, allowing himself to glide in the wind instead of frantically flapping his wings to propel himself even faster. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was only after a meal of freshly picked fruit and homemade bread that Patton remembered the pastry he had been given by the second-place finisher- what was his name? Something that began with a D… oh well, Patton would have to thank him later!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Someone gave this to me,” Patton said as he took the pastry out of his pocket, several crumbs falling onto the table. “Would you like to split it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Noelani shook her head. “It’s yours.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Patton nodded and took a bite, and immediately felt the tightness in his shoulders and wings disappear. He was always sore after a race, and usually was for a few days after that, but not anymore.  </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Before Patton could take another bite, Noelani gasped. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Patton! Patton, you-”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>He looked at Noelani, and before she could make another sound, Patton let out a scream. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“I- 'm- I can’t see my hands- what’s happening to me!?”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Noelani grabbed his shoulders and pulled him into a tight hug. “Patton, listen to me. Listen to me! Whatever happens, you can find your way back. You can find your way back, and I will be waiting here for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“But- I don’t want to leave! Noelani, what’s happening!? Noelani-!”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>One minute, Patton was holding tight to his friend and in her home, and the next he was surrounded by a pile of feathers on the asphalt of an old weathered playground, illuminated by glaring streetlights in the absence of the sun. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“No! No! Let me back… let me back!” Patton pounded his first against a tree, begging, pleading for a door to appear until his hands became bloody.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crying, begging, pleading for a way </span>
  <em>
    <span>home.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>A gust of wind began to blow through the park, and Patton began to frantically grab his feathers from dispersing in the gust. He wouldn’t let what was left of his home be scattered away from him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>With an armful of gray feathers and eyes full of salty tears, Patton began to walk to where he remembered his parents’ house to be, his bare feet leading him across the cold concrete sidewalks of the too-bright neighborhoods. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wondered briefly what someone would make of him, an unfamiliar teenager walking barefoot through the street, carrying nothing but a bundle of gigantic feathers and wearing a sky blue tunic with an open back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Already he missed his home, missed the familiar weight of his wings, missed the way Noelani’s feathers would tickle his cheeks when they hugged. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He paused at the sidewalk leading up to the house where he had lived for the first ten years of life yet had never truly called home. His home would always be at Noelani’s nest, where he would spend hours leaping between branches to find the sweetest fruits, where he would chase after the crows and sparrows, could bake the perfect meals on top of a fireplace, where he could practice racing around her tree- </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He took a gasp of breath, and before doubts could creep into his mind, knocked at the door and winced as another cut on his fist opened up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a minute of waiting, he began to worry. What if his parents had moved away? Then where would he stay while he waited for his door to come back? Or what if they no longer remembered him? Though he had never called this place home, he still loved his mother and father! What would he do if he never got to say goodbye, to tell them where he was?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The door opened with a familiar creak.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Patton?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi, dad!” Patton put on a smile, a performance for his family. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What- Patton!” His mother appeared behind his father and put her hand over her mouth in disbelief. “Where have you been? And- how- how do you look so much older-?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean? Mom, I’m sixteen and Noelani always said I had a baby face!” He chuckled, although laughter was the last thing on his mind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Patton, you’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>twelve</span>
  </em>
  <span>! You’ve been missing for two years!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Patton, come inside. Tell us everything you can. Should we call the police? Honey, I think we should call the police!” His father added. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The police? Why would you do that?” Patton tilted his head to the side in confusion, a habit he had picked up from the birds that he had befriended. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“BECAUSE YOU HAVE BEEN MISSING FOR TWO YEARS! BECAUSE YOU LOOK SIXTEEN WHEN YOU SHOULD BE TWELVE!” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>His mother shouted and looked surprised at herself for being so loud. His father put a hand on his shoulder and led him to the couch- a different couch than the one Patton remembered. This one was new, shiny leather, while the one he remembered had been soft red fabric. He felt his hair get staticky, and the feathers in his arm- which his mother seemed to just now notice, and wrinkled her nose at the sight of them- began to stick up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Patton, tell us what happened. We care about you, son,” his father said gently. Patton didn’t know why, but the thought of being called ‘son’ brought out an emotion he didn’t like. So he did what he always did: ignored the feeling and began to talk. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He talked about how he had been hiding and found the door that didn’t belong, how he walked through the hallway and climbed up the staircase, where Noelani had found him and taken him to her nest. He told them what Noelani had said, that the world was full of magic, that birds were the carriers and messengers of that magic, how the birds gave all humans wings so they could fly between the gigantic trees that held houses, or sometimes even cities. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He told his parents about racing, and about the war he had always known he would have to fight to protect his home. He told them about the racing he did to distract himself from his visions of battles, the training he did so that when the war came, he would be able to protect his friends. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And he told them about the last race he ever won, before fading away while pleading to stay with Noelani, to stay in his home, to stay in the world of birds and flight and magic and everything else he loved. The world where someone cared about him for who he was. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he finished his story, there was a beat of silence before his father spoke up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Patton, I think you should get to sleep. We kept your bed in your room, and you can borrow some of my pajamas for the night. We can talk about this more in the morning.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And with that, Patton was sent up the familiar stairs to an unfamiliar room. Everything left in there was coated in a layer of dust- only a bookshelf with some stuffed animals and old books next to a bed he didn't remember being that small. Patton knew there should have been more things- toys strewn across the floor, a baby-blue rug, a lego set of a cat. His parents must have cleaned up while he was gone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He realized he still had his feathers in his arms. He dropped them to the floor and dragged the neatly made blanket off the bed, and began to build himself a sleeping nest like the one he had at home. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he was satisfied with his work, he lay down and covered himself in the largest feathers he had carried from the park- his dark gray flight feathers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It took him too long to fall asleep, but when he awoke and went downstairs, he found his father waiting for him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Son,” he began. “I’ve done some research, and I think the best place for you to be is a boarding school. Thomas Sanders’ Home For Wayward Children. I heard he deals with… cases… such as yours.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A week after the conversation that Patton had no say in, he found himself carrying a bag and a suitcase across a cobblestone pathway to an imposing, mansion-like structure where a man waited for him at the door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You must be Patton, right?” The man asked, holding out his hand in greeting. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, sir,” Patton replied, attempting to hide the fear in his voice. He hadn’t been with his parents in years, but he still remembered that any school he would be sent to was almost guaranteed to be one of religious teachings. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man waved him off. “No need for formalities, you can call me Thomas! Or Mr. Sanders, whichever you prefer. Now, Patton, may I ask what your world was like?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My- my world? Um, I go to church every Sunday and-“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, no! Not this world! The one you call home. Mine was one of the trees of every color, with the softest grass, and fairies hiding in every flower, dryads in every tree. And not the kind of fairies your parents likely despise! Oh- sorry, that was probably a little odd. Never mind that, tell me about your world!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thomas led Patton through the sturdy oak doors into the house- if it could be called that. From the outside, it looked like a single house had been built onto until it became a sprawling maze of living rooms, and the inside was even more confusing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The entry hall alone had painted portraits that looked like they belonged in museums, not hung on wallpaper that looked like it was from the seventies. A crystal chandelier cast oddly shaped shadows across the multitude of doors that connected to the hall. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My world… my world was one where birds carried magic and gave it to any who they thought was worthy. I made friends there. Some were like me, humans who were given wings. Others were birds. Sparrows, crows, finches, ravens, robins… I loved them all. And- and I want to go back.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I understand, Patton. Almost everyone here wants to go back. It’s my job to try to help you and these other kids not be so homesick while we all wait for our doors.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Th- thank you. I haven’t been away from home for more than a week and I already miss it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You will never miss home any less, but I hope the weight of missing it gets easier to carry. Now come on, let’s get you settled. I can-“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thomas was cut off by a crash coming from what sounded to be far above their heads. He cringed and continued. “I need to go fix that. Ah, Nico can show you your room. Pryce, if you’re doing what I think you’re doing, stop it! Nico!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thomas took off in a sprint through one of the doors, leaving Patton alone in the entry hall until another man came running in. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi, you must be Patton! I’m Nico. Nico Flores-Sanders. I help my husband around the school. I’ll show you to your room, and make sure Janus doesn't kill you,” he laughed and took Patton’s suitcase. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh, that was a joke, right?” Patton asked tentatively. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mostly, yes. We did have to break up a fight between them and another student, though. To be fair, the other student was being, ah, quite a jerk.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Patton nodded. Don’t be a jerk, and don’t start a fight. Those seemed like easy enough rules to follow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Here, up this staircase and the first door on the right. If you get lost, you can always ask your roommate for directions. Somehow they were faster at learning their way around than I was!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You went here, too?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yup! Though back in my day, it was called Eleanor West’s Home. She didn’t actually run this building, she ran one on the upper east coast. Thomas and I met when we were both in school, and when he took over, I helped him run it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh! You two must be really good friends!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nico began to laugh, and Patton couldn’t understand what he had said that was so funny. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ooo-Kay. Here’s your room. Janus! Your roommate is here!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nico knocked, and Patton’s new roommate opened the door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh, hi. I’m Patton.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Janus. They and them pronouns. If you call me he or she, I will break your knee.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Janus, what have we said about cryptic and threatening introductions? Please make Patton feel welcome,” Nico scolded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Janus rolled their eyes and gestured with a gloved hand for Patton to come in. They waved at Nico, who gave a smile and closed the door. In the dim light, Patton could see the odd appearance of the person he’d be sharing a room with. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Janus wore a black bowler hat, a bit of wavy brown hair sticking out of it and hanging in their eyes, which Patton could tell, even in the dark, were two different colors. The most startling thing about their appearance, though, was the scar that ran from their left eye down to their chin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s your bed, on that side. I hope you don’t mind the dark because the curtains stay closed at all times. I have a space heater, so if it gets too hot in here, I will move it but under no circumstances will I turn it off. And I meant what I said, if you use any pronouns for me besides they and them, I will not hesitate.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Patton did not ask “hesitate to do what?” because he was pretty sure he knew the answer. However, he did ask, “why are your pronouns they/them?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am non-binary. Neither a man nor woman. It falls under the transgender umbrella.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Patton just nodded and thought for a minute. “Am I non-binary, too?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Janus raised an eyebrow. “You can be if you feel like it fits you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He began to unpack his suitcase and bag, putting his feathers on the bed and clothes in the dresser. He had refused to let anyone touch his feathers, his reminder that his home had really existed, that he wasn’t just making things up like his parents insisted that he was. When he was done making a proper nest on the floor with the pillows, blankets, and what was left of his wings, he turned to Janus.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m Patton, and I think I’m non-binary, too. I went to a world where birds were magic and humans could get wings. And, um, thank you for not breaking my knees.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That night, as Patton curled into his makeshift nest, he felt like she belonged somewhere for the first time since he had faded from Noelani’s hug. </span>
</p><p> </p>
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